A Fairytale Romance
by Vplasgirl
Summary: Adolescent Gil meets a little girl who captures his heart. GSR


_**A/N: **After Eph's Pond and Drunk on Love, someone suggested I write a bedtime story a day. The idea stuck and I started thinking about nursery rhymes and fairytales. I couldn't shake it and this is what came of it. It's probably the cheesiest thing I've every written so I've been sitting on it for days wondering if I dared share it. I dared. Red-faced, I give you..._

_**A Fairytale Romance**_

GIL GRISSOM fell in love for the first time when he was nineteen years' old.

He'd traveled to Northern California with his mother one late October for his great aunt's funeral. She had suffered from Alzheimer's, and for years lived in a retirement home north of San Francisco. He had never met this woman, but his mother had spoken of her frequently. She was one of those fond memories one kept from childhood, a favorite aunt, and this favorite aunt had named his mother executor of her will.

Given his mother's handicap, and all that would be expected of her to settle her great aunt's estate, Gil had taken time off from college and work, and reserved two rooms at a Bed and Breakfast recommended by a classmate who worked part time in a travel agency.

It was a nice place, elegant and welcoming, and its waterfront location had immediately appealed to him. But in spite of being greeted warmly by their hosts, Gil felt a prickle of uneasiness as he glanced at their hostess. He'd been honing his observation skills since well before puberty, and now they were telling him that despite all outward appearances, there was great tension in the couple. The woman looked ragged and tired, old beyond her years; her dark gaze was hesitant and apprehensive, and her smile, forced.

Shrugging off his discomfort, Gil picked up their suitcases and led his mother to the wide, central staircase. And that was when he spotted her, half hidden behind a heavy curtain by the picture window. Dark brown hair fell to her slim shoulders in a tangle, wild rather than unkempt, but it was her eyes that made him pause at the bottom of the stairs to really look at her. They were a deep shade of brown, the color of fine chocolate; curiosity and fear waged a battle in them, but they never wavered from him.

Gil was used to his mother getting the bulk of attention wherever they went. She was deaf, and that made her stand out among strangers who were unaccustomed to her strange speaking voice or hand signs. This child's gaze, however, wasn't focused on his mother, but on him, and something in them captivated him.

"What's your name?"

A small hand grasped the curtain and pulled it up to her mouth. But despite her apparent shyness, her eyes held his. "Sara," she responded in a small voice muffled by the heavy fabric.

"Sara. That's a beautiful name. Mine is Gil. It's nice to meet you."

"To your room, now!" their host barked, making Gil flinch. The girl's eyes widened and she ran, her small feet carrying her across the room and through a door that banged closed behind her.

Stunned, Gil turned and glared at the man, who further stoked him when he said, "Little pest. Ignore her."

Gil's jaw clenched. His mother must have sensed his anger for she immediately grasped his arm and in her funny voice said, "Let's go up, Gil."

Deep brown eyes filled with fear interfered with his sleep that night. He worried that the girl would get a beating for talking to a guest. Her father looked capable of it. Gil had seen enough already to know that there were such monsters living among normal people, and he continued to seethe well past midnight at the man and his complacent wife who'd stood by him, allowing him to put the fear of God in this small, defenseless child.

Yeah, sleep had not come easily that night.

He didn't see the girl again until very late the next afternoon. After a long day making arrangements for his great-aunt's funeral, his mother was tired and wanted a nap before dinner. Gil went out to explore the beach, which was little more than a stretch of sand dotted by sand dunes and tall grasses growing among them. But he found Sara there, sitting alone and staring out at the bay, her legs propped up close to her chest, her arms tightly wound around them, and in spite of an instinctive urge to quietly retreat, he found himself irresistibly drawn to the child with the lonely posture and sad eyes.

Dropping into the sand next to her, he said, "Hi, Sara. Remember me?"

Her gaze flickered over him but the far-away look in her eyes held fast. Slowly, she nodded and returned her attention to the shivering waters of the bay. Gil frowned, wondering if she was dreaming of a fairytale prince charging up her beach and rescuing her; or of dark ships, filled with pirates, wielding their swords and threatening her with bodily harm if she didn't sit perfectly still. Were her dreams filled with heroes or ogres?

Sadly, he suspected, it was a little of both.

Sara dug the heel of her threadbare espadrille into the sand, drawing his attention to a book that lay open, face down, at her feet. Recognizing an opportunity to reach her, Gil picked it up and read the title aloud. "Charlotte's Web. That's a good story."

She suddenly looked at him, her eyes wide and curious. "Is it?"

"Yes. Don't you think so?"

She looked away, her small shoulders inching up in a shrug. "I can't read yet."

"But someone must have read it to you."

"There are more important things to do in life than reading a stupid kid's book," she declared by rote, and Gil didn't have to be a genius to figure out where it came from.

"Hogwash."

Her lips suddenly turned up in a smile as beautiful as her eyes. "That's a funny word."

"Yes, it is. But it's sort of fitting. A hog is a pig and there's a pig in this story.

"I know. I can read pictures." And then slowly, she looked up at him, a bright light of hope shining in her eyes. "Would you read it to me?"

Gil gave her a mock serious look. "Your wish, ma'am, is my command," he said and she giggled.

He read the story to her, which turned out to be a long, drawn out affair because she would stop him every other sentence to ask him to point out a word to her. She wanted to know which word spelled Wilbur, or Charlotte, or Arable, or spider. She was an extremely inquisitive child with a thirst for knowledge, and it pained Gil that her parents would deny her a simple pleasure such as reading a book to her.

He and his mother stayed at that Inn for two weeks, and every day, he sought her out. He bought her more books, fairytales mostly, with happy endings, and he read them to her; he even taught her how to spell her name. She was a quick study, a bright child, and every time she smiled up at him, he felt it like an arrow straight to his chest. His heart had adopted her, and it carried a secret fantasy of taking her away from the constant tension in her life to a place where she would be free to express herself and not have to constantly walk on eggshells. Every little girl deserved a fantasy prince, and he wanted to be hers.

Sara's father was of the ilk of men who believed children should be seen but not heard, and her mother was too busy tending to her husband's moods and soothing his ego to notice the child. He wondered if her parents realized that their voices carried at night.

He continued to worry about Sara, and his concern grew when she began sitting a little closer to him, or when her eyes would turn up to look at him adoringly. More attentive parents would have noticed the amount of time she was spending with a stranger and protected her. Hers didn't.

"Have your parents ever told you not to talk to strangers?" he asked one day.

"No."

They were walking along the beach and he stopped, picked up a small rock, and skipped it across the water, which made her squeal in delight. Gil smiled. "Most grown-ups are very good people, Sara," he told her. "But some of them only appear to be nice on the surface when they're really not, so you have to be careful who you talk to. You have to follow your instincts."

Her little brow scrunched up in a way that he'd come to find utterly adorable. "What's in-stincts?"

"It's something you feel here," he said, pointing to his stomach. "When someone makes you feel uncomfortable here, you should stay away from them even when they look nice or say nice things to you."

"Okay."

He gave a lock of her long brown hair an affectionate tug and reminded her that it was dinner time. On their way back to the house, she slipped her hand in his and looked up, her gaze completely trusting. "My in-stincts are not uncomfortable," she declared confidently, and his heart squeezed. In that moment, he realized he'd fallen completely in love with this child.

THIRTY YEARS LATER, as he was clearing out a room—a stack of dusty boxes filled with books he hadn't looked at since College—Gil came across an old copy of Charlotte's Web. The cover was scratched, the corners frayed, and for a moment he frowned, wondering how he had come to be in possession of it. And then faint memories of the little girl who had given it to him returned and he felt a mild pang of guilt. She had given him the book so he wouldn't forget her, and it was because of her that to this day, he was so sensitive to cases involving children. How could he have forgotten her? He searched his memories for the name of the B&B where he and his mother had stayed all those years ago, wondering what had become of the little girl with the sad eyes who had fallen for him as surely as he had fallen for her.

He couldn't even remember her name. But a particular memory and the feelings it had evoked in him returned, making him smile. He had unknowingly lied to Sara. She wasn't his first love after all.

Chuckling, he turned the book over in his hands and opened it to the first page—His breath hitched, his heart following before it sharply accelerated. In a child's hand, on the very first page, was a large heart drawn in pencil, and in it was her name: _Sara Sidle_. He closed the book as though it had bitten him.

"Sara!"

A resounding clatter came from the kitchen and he heard her footsteps rush down the hallway to his spare room.

"What?" she asked, her tone slightly concerned, and when he didn't answer, she came in and kneeled behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Babe…what's wrong? You're shaking."

"You'll never…This is—"

Sara propped her chin up on his shoulder. "Charlotte's Web." He felt her smile. "I had that book when I was a kid."

"I know. You gave it to me."

She laughed softly. "No, I didn't. You must be getting your girlfriends mixed up."

He slowly flipped open the cover to the first page and felt her stiffen behind him. "We first met when you were four years' old."

"No." Sara swiftly released him.

"Yes. You probably don't remember…I didn't either until I found this. But the evidence doesn't lie."

He turned to face her and she snatched the book from his hands. She looked stricken, but her features slowly softened as she lightly traced her name with the tip of a finger.

After hours of helping him get ready for the movers that would take his things to their new home, her hair fell to her shoulders in a wild, tangled mess.

"Do you still want to marry me?" he asked softly and her eyes shot up to his. "You wanted to thirty years ago."

For a long moment, Sara stared at him. Her eyes were dark, the color of fine chocolate; curiosity and fear waged a battle in them, but they never wavered from him. And then she smiled, a slow, beautiful smile, as beautiful as her eyes, and he felt it like an arrow to his heart.

THE END


End file.
